


Nog

by tprillahfiction



Series: The Nog Verse [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: 1920's attire, Christmas, Christmas Party, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Drunk James T. Kirk, K/S Advent 2014, K/S Advent Calendar, M/M, Mistletoe, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 20:25:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2786537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tprillahfiction/pseuds/tprillahfiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the 1920's/The Great Gatsby themed holiday party aboard the Enterprise, Jim Kirk gets drunk on spiked eggnog and proceeds to make drunken advances towards his first officer.  Meanwhile Bones romances Dr. Marcus.</p><p>Kirk/Spock, McCoy/Carol Marcus</p><p>Written for K/S Advent 2014</p><p>(illustration in fic by me, aka 'hamnerd')</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nog

NOG

 

“Jim!” Bones yells out over the music, which sounds decidedly raunchy at the moment--the music does, not Bones’ voice. The title of it is ' _Let's Misbehave _', Jim thinks. The doctor motions frantically over at the drinks station on the beautifully decorated table, indicating a crystal tureen with a bright red bow attached. “Listen Jim, that bowl with the red bow on it is the plain eggnog and--”__

“Plain eggnog?!” Jim yells back. “What’d you say, Bones? Huh? That means no cinnamon?!”

“No, Jim! It’s the one without the several litres of booze in it. And you’re not allergic to any of the ingredients! I checked!”

“Oh, yeah. Thanks, Bones!”

Bones is sporting that smug smile that says: ‘I’m a good doc, aren’t I,’ and Jim can already smell the brandy breath on his best friend, which isn’t fair. However, out in deep space, where they are currently located, the captain is not allowed to get shit faced. Can’t even have one or two drinks because everybody knows the captain is a lightweight when it comes to booze. However, Bones right here, the bastard, isn’t the captain, so is completely off duty and can relax and let his hair down, unlike Jim, who is on duty. Technically.

Bones seems to have consumed quite a liberal amount of the spiked eggnog, based on the man’s trips back and forth to the refreshment area, but still seems pretty sober, but again, Bones isn’t on duty so can do what he likes. Within reason. Jerk.

“Red bow, Jim!” Bones is still yelling into his ear over the music. “Remember that. It’s the nog specially placed for the captain. The one who needs to stay completely sober on this festive occasion.” He pats Jim on the shoulder, hands over a glass full of the stuff. Jim tastes it. It’s okay, but it would be much better with that brandy.

“It better not be that low-fat or sugar free variety, Bones.”

“No, I couldn’t do that to you, Jim. I do have some compassion. It’s the holidays for fucks sake.”

Jim manages a faint smile. “Thanks, Bones. I really appreciate it.”

Bones smirks back and sips his own glass of eggnog, leaving a creamy nog mustache which he promptly licks away with entirely too much delight. A spiked eggnog mustache. Lucky asshole. “Don’t mention it, Jim. Just looking out for the captain.”

“Hope you’re enjoying your boozy, festive eggnog, Bones.”

“Oh, I am.” Bones chuckles like a madman. “I am. Don’t you worry ‘bout that, Jim.”

“Bet you even added another measure of brandy to that glass of yours.”

“Oh, I did.”

Jim decides to change the subject before he winds up murdering his best friend. Or at least punch the guy in the face, even with those crazy vintage round glass spectacles the physician is sporting at the moment. “Great party, Bones.”

“Like it, huh?”

“Yeah. You outdid yourself.” Bones was put in charge of organizing the holiday party this year. There’s a ton of activity, lots of pretty lights, excitement, music, dancing on a checkerboard dance floor, a gorgeously decorated massive pine Christmas tree--not real pine, but looks so damned real and it’s so beautiful, who cares if it’s fake.

Bones had made this shindig a themed costume party: ‘The Great Gatsby’ Roaring twenties, early twentieth century era for some strange reason. Probably the man had watched a movie and wanted to emulate the period. Jim has to admit that he doesn’t know that much about that decade, so long ago, besides what he’d learned in history class in school and maybe mentioned at the academy.

But this...this is kinda fun.

The attendees, as per Bones’ invites to the entire ship, would be expected to do the popular 1920‘s dances all evening to this crazy music they’ve got playing. Everybody, including he and Bones here, are obeying the dress code of the evening, white tie with tuxedos and tails. The female crew are clad in various versions of flapper attire, or even some of them wear tails, too. It’s strange seeing everybody out of uniform but they all look fantastic. Bones looks downright bizarre with his hair slicked back, into a side part, that tux and wearing those damned specs perched on his nose. Almost looks like he walked right out of the 1920’s.

And sure enough in the weeks before the big event, there were Charleston classes offered in the rec room, taught by Mr. Sulu, who is now out there showing off on the dance floor. Who knew the helmsman is such a rug cutter?

Right now a jazz orchestra plays--actually they’re holograms, but they look so lifelike--what appears to be all the popular tunes of the Twenties. The next song they announce is: “ _Kansas City Stomp_ ”. The dance floor suddenly fills up with partygoers. Bones beams from ear to ear at the sight, unusual for the normally grumpy doctor, another sign that he’s drunker than he appears.

Bones turns his attention back to the refreshment stand and indicates the other bowl. “Jim. Jim?!”

“Huh? Yeah, Bones?!”

“That one without the bow is spiked eggnog, Jim. You don’t want that one. Without the bow is the spiked stuff. With the booze in it. Jim! Are you listening to me?”

“I got it, Bones. No bow on the bowl equals spiked eggnog. Acknowledged. Are those real?”

“Huh? What, Jim?”

“Your spectacles. They’re just costume, right?”

“No, these are real. I do have a vision problem, macular degeneration, but I’m on retinax, so i’m....” Bones is blathering on and on, blah, blah, blah about his poor eyesight but Jim’s not listening, nor even looking at him. So Bones stops talking. Good man.

Jim stares off in the distance, towards the door. Commander Spock has just walked in. His heart leaps at the sight of the Vulcan, then sinks, because he knows the first officer wouldn’t be here to socialize, more has a pressing issue on the bridge that requires the captain’s attention. Looks like the party’s over for the captain before it even has begun.

“Holy fuck,” Bones breathes out. Bones is staring at who’s also entered the party hall and is now standing right next to Spock. Dr. Carol Marcus. She’s dressed in a green fringed flapper dress, fishnet stockings, black Mary Jane style high heels, with a long strand of pearls that she’s twirling around. “Holy, mother of god,” Bones says again.

“Calm down, Bones, your tongue is hanging out.”

“Jesus Christ, I mean she’s hot as hell in the blue uniform and a damned fine scientist, but as a flapper, she’s like a...she’s like a goddamned angel.” Bones pulls on his white bow tie and mutters another obscenity that Jim can barely hear. “I’m gonna fucking pass out.”

Carol Marcus is chatting with Spock a moment and Jim blinks and suddenly realizes Spock isn’t clad in a Starfleet uniform after all, he is in the requisite 1920’s style tuxedo, almost identical to his, right down to the white bow tie. Spock looks damned good. Stunning. The Vulcan appears to be glancing around, looking for something or somebody.

“Goddammit,” Bones says in his ear, hunched behind him. Jim shifts slightly so that the damned CMO stops hanging on his jacket and wrinkling it. The doctor practically whines: “They’re together. Spock and Carol.”

“No, they’re not, Bones.”

“They so are, Jim. Look at ‘em.”

“They’re not together. They’re just standing there.”

“Together. They arrived at precisely the same moment. Dammit, Jim. Spock is her date.”

“Spock’s not her fucking date, alright, Bones?”

“Son of a bitch. Goddammit! Now that he and Uhura broke up, Spock decided to take Carol as his date. Son of a bitch.”

They both glance momentarily over at Uhura dancing up a storm with Sulu. Then back to Spock and Carol.

“Bones, calm down. It’s pure coincidence that they arrived together.”

“The fuck it is. Dammit!”

“Bones! Shut the fuck up.”

Bones is behind him again, peering over his shoulder, nearly resting his chin on him. “Any minute now, he’s gonna side his paw around her tiny waist or they’ll start holding hands, or whatever.”

“They’re not gonna do that, Bones.”

“Oh, that’s right. Because he’s a Vulcan and he usually shows restraint, huh.”

Jim shrugs off Bones‘ boozy breath. “Knock it off, Bones.”

But Bones is entranced by the sight. “That goddamned hobgoblin’ll just flash those goddamned huge sad dark Vulcan eyes at her, flap those fucking cow lashes at her and she’ll be mush. I mean look at him in that suit. He looks like a goddamned GQ model in that. I can’t compete with that, now can I? He’ll give her that little ‘I’m not smiling‘ smirk, that he does when he’s into somebody. You just wait, Jim.”

“How long have you liked Dr. Marcus, Bones?”

“Hmmm, since that goddess first appeared on board, about as long as you’ve liked Spock.” Bones gives Jim a knowing glance, winks at him behind those damned glasses.

Jim blushes madly to the doctor’s delight. “If you would have just asked Carol to be your date for the party you wouldn’t be in this fine predicament.”

“No, no, no,” Bones says. “I couldn’t do that. What if she’d rejected me? Especially if she snagged that hobgoblin. Goddammit, no male humanoid should look that good, that’s for sure.”

Suddenly Carol smiles and walks away from Spock. “Look, Bones. She’s alone. Now’s your damned chance. Go over there and ask her to dance with you.”

“I’m sure Spock just went to go fetch her a drink. He wouldn’t take too kindly to some jerk like me dancing with his date.”

“No, they’re both on other sides of the room.”

Bones looks. “Oh oh. Spock is headed directly towards us. Probably saw you staring at her.”

Jim elbows the doctor in the gut. “You better hurry up, Bones. While she’s alone. Ask her to dance, before somebody else starts sniffing around her.”

“Can’t, Jim.”

“Well, then it’s your own damned fault, Bones.”

“Oh shit,” Bones says and hides behind Jim yet again. “He really is coming over here. He’s fucking beelining it for us.”

Jim pushes Bones off of him. “Would you quit that? Quit hanging on my coat tails, literally? Fuck!”

“He’s gonna say ‘hello’ to you then he’s gonna deal me that little warning glance--that ‘stay away from my chick you fucking asshole’ glare.”

“You’re imagining things, Bones. By the way, Jesus Christ, man up. Stop acting like a fucking coward. Why all of a sudden are you so terrified of Spock?”

Bones suddenly straightens up, pulls on his jacket. Clears his throat. “I’m not terrified of anybody.”

“Dr. Marcus comes into the room and you turn into a pile of goo.”

“I know, I know, I regress into a hormonal teenager. Can’t help myself, sometimes.”

Before they know it, Spock is standing right in front of them. “Hello, Captain.” The Vulcan gives him a nod.

“Hello, Mr. Spock.” Jim takes a sip of his eggnog and nods politely.

“Oh waiter,” Bones says to Spock. “I’d like the prime rib. And my friend here would--”

Jim elbows the physician hard in the ribs before he glances at the first officer up and down.

Wow. Who picked out Spock’s attire? Even Bones’ eyes widen. Spock’s bangs are combed over into a side part which works really well. Black velvet tails, white vest. White bow tie. Flower in the lapel. Jim’s heart skips a beat.

“Spats?” Bones says. “You have fucking spats on?” Jim glances down, and sure enough Spock’s sporting white button up covers over black shoes.

“Affirmative, Doctor. These are authentic vintage attire.”

“No kidding?” Jim whistles under his breath.

The doctor rolls his eyes. “Jesus.”

“Bones, you’re just jealous you didn’t think of wearing them.”

Bones shrugs and takes a sip of his own eggnog. “You appear to have lots of styling product in your hair, Hobgoblin.”

“So do you, Doctor. You are well aware of my wearing it. In fact you borrowed my container and we both shared the same mirror. Our respective hairstyles would not stay in place, otherwise.”

“Oh yeah? Well, mine’s better.”

Jim elbows the doctor again, this time hard enough so that the doctor’s eggnog sloshes out of his glass. “You’ll have to excuse Dr. McCoy here.”

Spock eyes the CMO, raises an eyebrow. “No offense taken.”

“Sorry, Spock,” Bones says, smiling. “You do look nice. For once.”

Jim swings around. “Would you stop?”

Bones shrugs. “What?”

Jim turns back around to face the Vulcan and immediately wishes he could play with that bow tie. He stuffs that thought right down. “Thanks for coming to the party, Mr. Spock.”

“I am the scheduled entertainment for the evening, so therefore I was obligated to appear.”

“The entertainment?” Kirk asks. “Oh.”

“Magic tricks, wasn’t it?” Bones quips. “Riding a unicycle? Juggling?”

“Bones,” Jim warns out of the side of his mouth. “I’m going to punch you if you don’t knock it off.”

“Not with glasses on,” Bones says. “That makes me immune to violence, Jim.”

“I’ll take ‘em off, first.”

“Ooh,” Bones says but quiets down.

“Dr. McCoy,” Spock interrupts, “logic would clearly dictate that since you organized this holiday party, you know precisely what I will be performing.”

“I know, I know.” Bones takes another drink of the eggnog and rolls his eyes. Doesn’t say anything more. Just grins like a cat eating a damned canary.

“Well, I guess for me, it’s a surprise,” Jim says with a grimace. “Right guys?”

Bones shrugs. Spock says nothing.

Jim clears his throat and blurts out: “Hey Spock, quick question. Is Carol Marcus your date for the evening?”

Bones spins around. “Oh boy.”

“Negative, Jim.” Spock seems downright baffled by the doctor’s behavior. “Dr. Marcus arrived precisely at the same time, but we are not each other’s date. She is rather lovely this evening, however, is she not?”

Bones chokes on his eggnog.

Jim looks at Bones. “Ask her to dance. That’s an order.” He gives the man a little shove in the right direction.

“Alright, alright, if you insist, Captain.” Bones downs the rest of his eggnog, licks his lips. “Do I look alright? No food stuck in my teeth?”

“You look gorgeous. Now, get outta here.”

Bones hands Jim his empty glass, smirks bizarrely at Spock then spins on his heel and walks away. Jim and Spock watch him leave.

“Sheesh,” Jim says. “Thought I’d never get rid of him.” Spock raises an eyebrow before Jim explains: “He thought you and Carol were together. Hence his obnoxious behavior.”

Spock shakes his head. “Dr. Marcus and I are not romantically involved.”

“I know,” Jim says with a smile. “Hey uh, would you care for some eggnog? They have the non-alcoholic version if you’d like. Over there.”

“I have never had eggnog.”

“Well it’s delicious. Try some! I’m sure it’s safe for Vulcans.”

“I would like that, Jim.” Jim’s heart leaps at the first officer’s rare use of his first name.

They walk over to the refreshment bowls. Jim throws Bones‘ empty glass into the receptacle. “Oh no,” Jim says.

“What is it, Jim?”

“I can’t remember which eggnog is which. Bones told me which bowl is non alcoholic, and which one isn’t. But for the life of me I can’t remember.”

They stare at both bowls for a few moments, glancing from one to the other.

“It does not matter which version I try,” Spock replies. “Alcohol has no real effect on a Vulcan.”

“Yeah, but I’m not supposed to--” Jim halts and shrugs. “I think the one with the bow on it is the alcoholic one. That makes sense, doesn’t it? Maybe if we smell it, we can tell the difference.”

Spock leans over and sniffs each bowl. “I am afraid I cannot discern the difference.”

“You can’t? Let me try.” Jim leans over and sniffs. “Me neither.”

“A tri-corder would be handy at this precise point in time.”

“We’re not going to bring a tri-corder in here, Spock.” Jim playfully hits the Vulcan’s chest. “Bones would hit the ceiling. The only thing for it is, I guess, a taste test. Surely, I’ll be able to tell if I taste it.”

He pours some eggnog into the glass, one for him and one for Spock. He hands a glass to Spock. “Cheers,” he says.

Spock clinks his glass to his. Then takes a sip. “I am afraid that I cannot discern if there is alcohol in this. However, it is quite good.”

“Yeah it is good. Better than that last glass, that’s for sure. I can’t tell either.” He drinks another sip. “No, this is non-alcoholic. I don’t taste any booze.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah. I think.”

“Would you like some of the other bowl, Jim?”

“No. No. This is fine.” Jim picks up the ladle. “I’m filling this up to the top. Want some more?”

“Yes, Jim.” Spock flicks up his eyes and for a moment, Jim hears Bones’ voice in his head about how Spock flashes his eyes and bats his eyelashes at whoever he’s into. He squashes that thought right down.

Spock suddenly pulls out a time piece from his pocket, looks at it. “What is that?” Jim asks.

“A pocketwatch.”

“I’ve never seen one before. I love antiques.”

“I am rather fond of them, myself, Jim.”

“Well, what do you know, we have something in common.”

Spock snaps the watch shut and puts it back in his pocket. “It is time for my performance. If you will excuse me, Jim.” He holds Jim’s gaze a long moment before he steps away.

Jim sighs before he downs the rest of the eggnog. He quickly fills up his glass again. This stuff is fantastic. He hurries over to the edge of the tables and the dance floor. He finds a table for one at the edge of the stage.

Bones, obviously the master of ceremonies for the evening, since he organized the party, is at the mic, an old style contraption, introducing the musical act. Spock will be playing piano, and the band will be backing him up. Jim sips on the eggnog. Hmmm. Alright.

Wait a minute. “Spock plays the piano?” Jim mumbles aloud to himself. “Huh. Fascinating.”

And sure enough, Spock appears at the piano, sits down at the bench, fluffs his tails back like a Vulcan version of Mozart and proceeds to dive into a rendition of : “Kitten On The Keys” and then “The Entertainer”.

He finds himself entranced as Spock’s hands fly over the piano. Who knew the Vulcan was so talented in music?

Wow.

The song finishes and there’s applause. Jim manages to drag himself out of his stunned stupor to join in. Spock rises up from the piano, bows and comes over to the mic, adjusting it to his particular height. What is Spock going to do? And where the hell did Bones go?

He squints. Bones is now sitting down at the piano. Moving his tails back, just like Spock had done and making himself at home on the bench.

Spock says into the mic. “Good evening. I wish to perform a song, called ‘ _One Cannot Kiss Alone_ ’. I shall be accompanied by Leonard McCoy on piano and the band.”

Bones begins playing. Holy crap. Bones is also an accomplished pianist? Spock can sing? How has he never known this stuff about these two?

Spock sings:

“ _Now I can handle anything,_  
 _when I’m alone I’m like a king,_  
 _since no one else has got a clue,_  
 _I’ve become my butler too,_

_“I drive myself, pride myself,_  
 _psychoanalyze myself,_  
 _play hide and seek, bridge and poker,_  
 _I’m the count and I’m the joker,_  
 _beat myself in games of chess,_  
 _help myself when in distress,_  
 _run a solo relay race,_  
 _confront my demons face to face,_

_“I can sing duets alone,_  
 _and I can break my own wishbone,_  
 _but independence has its price tag,_  
 _and since I’m broke now that cereal rack,_

_“I can’t kiss myself alone babe,_  
 _you know what its all about,_  
 _no no, a kiss is just a game for two babe,_  
 _because you’ve really got to have another mouth._

_“Alone I just can’t do it_  
 _there’s nothing more to it,_  
 _there’s no way through it,_  
 _I can’t even try to cheat,_  
 _I’ve got to take some action,_  
 _and have real reaction,_  
 _form a whole new faction,_  
 _kissing is a duel feat,_  
 _I’m ready for some heat."_

__

 

The crowd goes wild. And it’s almost as if the vulcan is singing the song directly to him. Keeps looking right at him. But maybe because he’s in the front, staring intently at Spock. That must be it.

Spock finishes the song and speaks into the mic. “Thank you. Next, I shall perform the song: ‘ _I Want You For Christmas_ ’.”

'I want you for Christmas?' If he didn’t know Spock better, that would sound like a suggestive song. A pretty damned suggestive song. Is Spock trying to tell him something?

No. It can’t be. It’s just a cute, festive 1920’s song. Played by Bones and sang by Spock. Huh.

That song finishes to rapt applause from the assembled. Bones gets up from the piano, comes up next to Spock, they both take a bow. Spock exits stage left, comes down the steps.

At the mic, Bones says with a goddamned twinkle in his eye: “It’s time for the Charleston contest! Grab your dancing partners!”

Jim gets up from the table and jumps out of his skin when he realizes the first officer has appeared by his side, out of nowhere. “Spock, that was amazing.”

Spock replies by whispering into his ear: “Jim, I assume you learned the Charleston?”

He hadn’t taken the dance class really, never had the free time, but he’s feeling pretty good, pretty warm inside, nice and loosened up and confident he can wing it. Can’t be from those glasses of eggnog, that stuff is sadly non alcoholic, but maybe his odd feeling is emanating from seeing Spock crooning a couple love songs just moments ago. He’s never going to forget that sight and sound as long as he lives. And grumpy ol’ Bones accompanying the first officer on piano, think you know somebody, right?

“Sure, I learned,” Jim says, lying through his teeth. “But I had a little trouble with the steps.”

“Please, follow my movements if you like, it is not too difficult.”

“Spock, are you asking me to dance with you?”

Spock nods. Gives him another look. That look. That goddamned look. The one Bones was talking about. That right there. Those puppy dog eyes.

He’s got butterflies in his stomach staring into those eyes and he needs another egg nog. Right now.

The opening strands of the Charleston begins. Jim notices Bones dancing with Dr. Marcus. Then looks back at what Spock’s doing. First it’s step kick, step kick. Okay, easy enough. Then walk around. He then notices Spock crouching down, crossing his hands over his knees. He does the same, imitating him. Laughing his head off. Spock’s eyes dance in delight.

After a while several couples are out. Sulu nods at various others: “Thank you.” Those dancers are out too. The dance floor thins out rapidly.

Then it’s down to two remaining couples. Bones and Carol and Jim and Spock.

“Can’t let Bones win. Time to kick this shit up a notch, eh Spock?” Jim asks.

Spock smirks back.

Jim dances his heart out, determined to out-dance that damn chief medical officer next to them making a fool of himself.

And they do kick it up. They win!

There’s more applause. Jim bows for the assembled. He grabs Spock’s hand, they bow together. They couldn’t have won because he’s the captain, could they? Nah. It’s because of his fine dancing technique.

“How about that, Baby?” Jim lets slip out of his mouth, then covers it in embarrassment realizing what he’s just said. Calling Spock 'baby'? Totally inappropriate, why did he do that? He clears his throat. He spots Bones and sticks his tongue out at the man who shakes his fist at him in return. Then Bones laughs and walks off with Dr. Marcus arm in arm.

“Not bad technique, Jim,” Spock replies. “Especially being that was your first time.”

“That’s what he sssaid,” Jim replies.

“I beg your pardon, Jim?”

Jim grins. “My lack of experiencccce cccerrrrtainly didn’t show, did it?”

He lets go of Spock’s hand then staggering off the dance floor, the Vulcan at his heels. “We sssure sssshowed Bonesy, huh?” He reaches behind him and grabs onto the Vulcan’s hand again. “Couldn’t have done it without you, Spock. You. Spock. You made it happen.”

Spock squeezes the digits, but lets go and gives Jim a confused glance. “Are you alright, Jim?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, why? How about a glass of that damned fine eggnog, eh Sssspock?” He grabs onto Spock’s arm, propelling him towards the table, this time Spock allows the contact.

Jim pours himself another glass and slurs out: “Cheers, Ssspock.” He snakes his arm around Spock’s slim little waist. The first officer is so hot in these old fashioned trousers. The velvet coat feels good sliding against his wrist. He downs the eggnog. “Oh, so good. Ssssso goddamned, good. So beautiful.” He cups the vulcan’s face. “Just like you. You perfect roaring twenties crooner you.”

He pours himself yet another glass of eggnog.

“Thank you, Jim.”

“No.” Jim releases his hold on Spock’s waist, but pokes him with a finger in the shoulder. “Thank you. Want some more eggnog, Ssssspock?”

“I believe I have had enough eggnog, Jim.” Spock’s watching him as he drinks.

“You sssssure now? This sssstuff is delicious.”

“I know it is, Jim.”

The room suddenly spins. Jim sways. Spock reaches out, catches him by the waist. “Jim?”

“Huh, Spock?” Jim grins. It feels good to have those hands around his waist. “Huh?”

The party seems to be winding down, quite a few people have left for the evening. The room is darkened but the band is still playing a song that Spock identifies as “ _Louisiana_ ”. It sounds kinda naughty. Bones is over in one corner of the dance floor, slow dancing and whispering into Dr. Marcus’ ear. She’s giggling.

“Jim,” Spock is telling him, getting his attention back. “I believe I should escort you to your quarters.”

“Oh...wow....really so forward, really?” Jim says. “You want to come home with me?”

“Yes, Jim. I wish to see to it that you are safely ensconced in bed.”

Jim snorts at that. “In bed. That’s what you say after you read a fortune cookie. ‘You will fuck a mysterious gentleman. In bed.”

“Jim.” Spock shakes his head. “I have never seen you so seriously inebriated.”

“You mean...drunk?!” Jim yells out. “Drunk? I most certainly am not drunk. There’s no alcohol in this nog. Not at all.” He holds up the glass, some sloshes out over the side. “So...logic would clearly dictate, that it’s impossible for me to be drunk. Impossible,” Jim sputters. “For me to be seriously inebriated. Bones told me my eggnog would be alcohol free. He promised. Look at him over there, fooling around with Carol. He was jealous of you, Spock. He thought you, Spock, was in love with her, but he was wrong wasn’t he? Bones is a fucking idiot, right Spock?”

“Jim,” Spock breathes.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. God. I fucked up everything.”

“No, Jim, you have not.”

Jim suddenly realizes that the party is down to himself and Spock and Bones and Carol. He grabs onto Spock’s hand again and drags him onto the checkerboard dance floor. “Spock, we’re the only ones left at the party. Us four.”

“Yes, Jim. It is rather late.”

“But the band, it’s still playing.”

Suddenly Bones speaks from right next to them. “Jim. That’s a hologram, they’ll quit playing when I say they quit playing, and since I ain’t done here with this beautiful woman yet they’ll keep on playing. If you have any requests, just yell it out. And no ‘Beastie Boys”, either.”

Jim makes a face at the doctor. “Beastie Boys? I would never.”

“Yeah, you would.”

Spock yells out a song request: " _Love Is the Sweetest Thing_ "

“Oooh that’s nice,” Bones replies.” A slow one. Perfect.” The doctor slides his hands more securely around Dr. Marcus’ waist.

“Bones, where’d you learn how to dance like that? For that matter where’d the hell did you learn how to play piano like that? I’ve known you for how many years?” Jim counts on his fingers. “Four years at least and I never knew you could play like that. You’re a penis-ist.”

Dr. Marcus snickers at that.

“Pianist,” Bones corrects him, then eyes him a moment, scrunching up his face, looking owlish with those glasses on, but doesn’t stop dancing or letting go of Carol. “Oh hell. You’re drunk.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Spock, why’d you let him get so damned wasted?”

“Hey, I’m not drunk. If I am, then you are!” Jim protests.

“Dr. McCoy, I do believe that the captain was drinking out of the ‘virgin eggnog’ bowl.”

Jim snickers at the word: ‘virgin’. Spock rolls his eyes at him. Jim slides his hands around Spock’s waist, hugging him tightly. He lays his head on Spock’s chest. “Ahhh, virgin eggnog. Pure as the driven snow.”

“Jim, which bowl of eggnog were you drinking out of?”

“Hum? Spock, is somebody blathering on?”

“The doctor is making an inquiry of you.” Jim can feel Spock’s voice reverberating against his ear. He refuses to look over at Bones, but he can hear the bitching from the CMO next to him.

“Eggnog, Jim. Which one? Which one, Jim?”

“The one sans red bow,” Spock finally replies for him. “The non alcoholic version, Dr. McCoy.”

“Oh, shit. No, no. Jim. Jim, you moron. I told you the one WITH the bow was the safe version. You weren’t listening to me, as usual. Spock, I blame you.”

“Doctor,” Spock says. “I am not--”

“Relax, Bones.” Jim holds up a hand. “I’m not drunk and we’re not gonna have a red alert tonight. Everything is alright. This is a quiet quadrant of space.” He resumes his clamp on the Vulcan, his hands sliding down. He can the velvet against his fingers. So good. Goddamn Spock’s hips are so fucking tiny.

“We better not have an alert, Jim. You know this is against regulation. The captain’s not supposed to be wasted out in deep space like this. Dammit Spock, why’d you let your immediate superior get so damned sloshed, huh?”

“Bones, I’m not drunk.”

“The hell you aren’t. Look at the way you’re feeling up your first officer.” Jim’s hands immediately leave Spock’s waist. Then he puts them right back. Spock’s velvet trousers are like a Jim magnet. Yessss.

“Bones, in case of general quarters alert, my first officer’s just fine to fill in for me, though. I trust him to take my place in my chair.” Jim leans his head up, looks into Spock’s eyes. “Isn’t that right, Baby?” He feels the soft velvet some more.

Spock looks down at him. “Affirmative.”

“Don’t say affirmative when you look and feel this good.” He grinds his hips into the Vulcan. “Just say, ‘oh yes, Jim’.”

Spock blushes emerald. Bones makes a disgusted mock retching sound, drawing a laugh from Carol.

“What are you giggling at, Dr. Marcus?” Bones drawls out.

“Bones, there’s a whole dance floor over there, you and the doctor can have that quadrant, and me and Spock will take this one. Y’know for privacy. Hint. Hint. Hint.”

“Don’t let him drink any more spiked eggnog, Spock.” Bones scoots himself and Dr. Marcus over.

Jim looks up at the Vulcan. “If you want to take me back to my quarters now, be my guest.”

Spock shakes his head. “Perhaps we should dance another few songs.”

“Trying to sober me up first, huh?” Spock does not answer and Jim grabs onto his hand yet again, dragging him back over to the refreshment table. “I’m not drunk, Spock, but I need me some more nog. All this arguing with Bones is making me thirsty.”

“Jim, you were slurring your words.”

“But I’m not now, am I?”

“Perhaps not.”

Jim pours himself another glass of eggnog from the spiked bowl.

“Jim you should partake of the virgin version,” Spock begins.

“I don’t like sleeping with virgins, they don’t know what they’re doing,” Jim shoots back. “You’re not a virgin, are you?”

“Jim,” Spock says. “I fail to understand what my personal status has to do with eggnog.” He grabs onto Jim’s wrist. “Jim.”

“Last glass, I promise.” Jim holds up three fingers from his free hand. “Scouts honor.”

“Scouts...honor?”

“Never mind, I was never a boy scout anyway.”

“I fail to comprehend the meaning of--”

“Want another glass of eggnog, Spock? I think I’ll have another. It’s too good to pass up.”

“Dr. McCoy will be quite angry with me if he finds out that I aquiciesed to you partaking of yet another glass of spiked eggnog.”

Jim wants to play with that tie again, and this time he does reach out and grab onto it. “You’re not afraid of little ol’ Bones, are you?”

“I am not afraid of anything,” Spock declares.

Jim wants to kiss him right now, but he needs more nog to build up a little courage. He takes a drink. “Delicious. Drink your eggnog, Spock,” he whispers.

“Jim, I--”

Jim downs the rest of his glass. “It’s good, isn’t it?”

“Indeed.” The way Spock’s looking at him, blinking, almost seems terrified. Jim tilts his head and reaches over to pour himself another glass.

“Have mine instead, Jim.” Spock holds his up.

“You sure? You don’t want yours?”

“Indeed.”

“Alright, if you say so.” He takes it from the Vulcan and the thought of drinking a glass that Spock has had his mouth on, is beguiling. He drinks it down.

The room suddenly spins. “Whoah!”

Spock catches him by the waist. “Now you have definitely had enough.”

“You cutting me off?”

“I am. I must be firm with you.”

“Firm?” He giggles. “Oh, Spock. I want you to be firm with me.” He slides a palm down to the Vulcan’s crotch, feels what the Vulcan is packing underneath there. Holy fuck it’s huge.

Spock pulls back out of his clutches. “Captain, no more.”

Jim pouts. “Fine.” He stops his groping of the first officer and sets down the glass. He then slides his hands around the Vulcan’s neck. “Come on, lets go back to your quarters.”

Spock removes Jim's hands. “I shall take you back to yours and put you to bed.”

“Ohhh, is that what you call it?”

They saunter off towards the door, him staggering, Spock trying to keep them walking straight.

“The hell you two goin’?” Bones shouts over at them.

“Home!” Jim yells back.

“Wait just a damned minute!” Bones yells back. “Computer off!” The music stops, the lights go up. He grabs Dr. Marcus‘ hand. “Come on, Sweetheart.”

“Bones,” Jim slurs out. “Don’t need to follow us.”

“The hell I don’t!”

Bones and Dr. Marcus come rushing towards them, stopping short at the doorway. “Where we goin‘, Spock? Your cabin?”

Spock opens his mouth, but closes it. “Unknown, Dr. McCoy.”

“Your place it is,” Jim says. “Why do they have to tag along?”

“Because we do!” Bones says.

Jim glances up. There’s a sprig of mistletoe. “Hey...who put that up there?”

Bones blushes deep crimson. He turns to Dr. Marcus, pulls her to him, cups her face, kisses her. Jim watches intently. He’s never seen Bones kiss anyone, ever and the sight is giving him a throbbing erection.

Bones, finally breaks away from Carol. “Jim,” he says rather breathlessly, still looking into her eyes. “Take a hologram, it’ll last longer.”

“No, I’d rather watch the live porn show, right here.”

“Show you a thing or two, that’s for goddamned sure,” Bones replies. Still looking at Carol.

“I don’t think so, Bones. Me and Spock here, we can kiss better than that. A thousand times better than that.”

“Jim.” Spock shifts uncomfortably.

“Jim, don’t do that to your first officer, you’re embarrassing him,” Bones says in all seriousness.

“Do what?”

“Tease him like that. His ears are turning green, you’re making the poor guy bashful. Bad enough he’s gotta deal with your drunk ass.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“Jim,” Spock begins.

“We’re under the mistletoe, too, Spock. We have to kiss.” He pushes the first officer to stand directly underneath with him. “Kiss me, Spock. Show Bones and Dr. Marcus how to kiss properly. Knock their socks off.”

“Jim,” Spock says.

“Jim,” Bones says. “Don’t.”

“Come on, Spock. Kiss me. I dare you.”

“Oh, now he’s done it,” Bones says, throwing up his hands. Dr. Marcus laughs. “Hey, I tried to help.”

“Done what?” Spock asks.

“Jim’s dared you to kiss him. Now you have to.”

“I do not,” Spock protests.

“Go ahead, Spock, he won’t remember a thing in the morning anyways,” Bones says. “In fact Carol and I will hang out in the corridor, until you’re done. But don’t be too long.” Bones and Dr. Marcus walk thorough the door. It shuts in their wake.

“Come on, Spock,” Jim says in the quiet. “Kiss me. You have to.” He puckers up, closes his eyes.

Spock reaches out, traces Jim’s mouth with two fingers. “I decline.”

Spock turns away, Jim groans out a protest. “Ohhh, come on. You have to!”

Spock walks out the doors, with Jim following. Bones and Dr. Marcus are kissing in the corridor. Bones breaks away with obvious reluctance. His glasses are gone. “How was it, Jim?”

“Fantastic,” Jim tells him.

“Liar."

They make their way down the corridor and into the lift. Jim begins to screech out at the top of his lungs: “One Cannot Kiss Alone”. Only he’s off pitch.

"Volume, Jim."

"What? It's fine, Bones. Carol likes it, right Dr. Marcus?"

Carol just laughs.

“Good thing you weren’t the entertainment tonight, Jim,” Bones quips.

They reach Spock’s cabin and enter. The door swooshes shut behind them. “Goddamn, Spock,” Jim yells out. “It’s like an oven in here!”

“Computer lower the temperature to Earth normal levels. My apologies, I was not expecting guests.”

“S’alright, Spock,” Bones says as the temp plummets. He goes to the desk, hands flying over Spock’s PADD, beams in a bottle of brandy from his own quarters. It materializes. "Sometimes being aboard this tin can has it's benefits." He picks up the bottle and pours Dr. Marcus and himself a drink. “Want a brandy, Spock?”

“Negative,” Spock says.

“I’ll have one,” Jim says.

“Aren’t you sloshed enough?” Bones protests but pours one out for Jim before sitting down next to Dr. Marcus and cuddling with her on Spock’s sofa.

Jim sits down on Spock’s bed directly opposite. “Come here, Baby.” He pats the bed. Spock sits next to him but not too close.

After an hour of conversation and a couple glasses of brandy, Bones and Dr. Marcus fall asleep together on the couch. Jim’s watching them intently. “Look at those two.”

“Yes,” Spock says.

“They look like a couple of kittens.”

“Indeed,” Spock says softly.

“Looks like they’re there for the night. Doesn’t it.”

“It does.”

“Know why they came with us?”

“Why?”

“Bones doesn’t want to be alone with her. Not yet. He’s scared. Doesn’t want to rush things. He’s afraid if they slept together too fast it would ruin everything.”

“He told you this?”

“No, I can see it in his body language. Bones hasn’t been with anybody since his divorce.”

“I see.”

“Underneath that gruff exterior there is a very romantic, sensitive man there. He loves her.”

“Yes. I know.”

Jim sighs and lolls his head over at Spock. “Hey Spock?”

“Yes?”

“I want to be your kitten.”

“My what, Jim?”

He motions over at Bones and Carol. “Why wouldn’t you kiss me?”

“I did not feel it was appropriate.”

“Why not?”

Spock does not answer, simply shrugs in a very human manner.

Jim tries to stand up, finally succeeds but wavers on his feet. “You know what? I think I should go back to my quarters.”

“You are welcome to stay here, Jim.”

“Where shall I sleep then, on the floor?”

Spock’s looking at him, into his eyes. “No. On my bunk.”

“Where will you sleep?”

“With you.”

Jim giggles madly and slides his hands around Spock’s waist, tries to dip a finger under the waistband.

Spock pulls Jim’s hand away. “Jim, I mean, sleep. Nothing else.”

“Oh, Spooooock. How disappointing.”

“You are inebriated and therefore not in control of your actions.”

“I know what I’m doing.” He lets his fingers keep on walking. “I want you, Spock.” He nips at Spock’s ear with his teeth.

“Jim.” Spock moves his head away, glances down at the deck, again removing Jim’s roving hands, again giving off the vibe that he’s uncomfortable.

“Fine. Sleepy time.” Jim yawns. “Help me out with this damned tux, huh?”

Spock reaches out, unties Jim’s bow tie, then removes the jacket, the shirt, then the shoes, then the trousers and the socks. Spock folds it up very neatly for him and sets it on a chair. Jim’s down to boxer shorts when he gets in the bed, under the covers. Spock gets in bed with him, hands over a pillow. Grabs another for himself.

“Spock,” Jim mumbles. “You’re not wearing that tux to bed, are you? You’ll ruin it.”

Spock stands and divests himself of his own tuxedo and is now down to an undershirt, boxer shorts and socks. Jim's never seen the Vulcan in boxer shorts...and those dark socks? He snickers at that. “Coming to bed with socks on? That’s not sexy.”

“That is the idea,” Spock replies and slides into bed under the covers.

“Oh, so that’s supposed to be Jim repellent?” Jim says, giggling again. “Well it ain’t gonna work, Baby. With a body like that, I can ignore those socks.”

Spock pushes the roving hands away. “Jim, I must ask that you please desist.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry. I can’t help it. You looked delicious in your tux tonight and you look damned good in your underwear.”

“Jim,” Spock says quietly. “Goodnight.”

Jim huffs. “Goodnight, Spock.” He closes his eyes but opens them again. “Kiss me goodnight. Please?”

Spock sighs. “Jim.”

“Just a kiss, Spock. Nothing else. God, we’re in bed together. I like you. You like me, don’t you?”

“Jim.” Spock again shifts awkwardly. He reaches over and again traces Jim’s lips with two fingers. “Goodnight.”

“Kiss me.”

“I said, goodnight, Jim.”

“Shut up!” Bones grumbles, without opening his eyes.

Jim snickers then immediately falls asleep.

*

Jim blinks his eyes open. He’s not in his own cabin. Spock’s quarters. He feels a warm body pressed up against his. His arms are circled around somebody's waist. Spock.

Spock?

Jim realizes he's in his underwear. Spock is still asleep under the covers, but awakens when the Vulcan senses his movement. Spock sits up, eyes him.  His hair is all messed up, sticking up in an adorable way. The Vulcan is also in his underwear.

“Spock, what am I doing here? Did we? Did we?”

“Negative.”

“We were snuggled up like a couple of kittens, Spock.”

“Jim,” Spock says, his eyes alive with mischief. “I do believe you asked to be my kitten.”

“Your what? I said that?”

“Affirmative.”

“Don’t say ‘affirmative’ when we’ve just woken up in bed together. Did we, uh...?”

“We did not copulate, if that is what you are wondering.”

“Oh.” Jim blushes even more. “Well...I uh....yeah I was. Nothing happened?”

“Nothing happened, Jim.”

Jim gets up out of bed, the brandy headache hitting him. “Oh man. I had a lot to drink last night. Damned spiked eggnog.”

“That is an understatement, Jim.”

“I blame Bones. Confusing me like that. It was an accident, I shouldn’t have drunk spiked eggnog. That’s a no no. Captain’s not allowed. Not in deep space.”

“This sector of space has been quiet. No harm done.”

“Yeah but ...I should be ashamed of myself.” Jim blinks at the Vulcan. Suddenly he remembers, everything. “Oh no.” He blushes in deep shame. “I said, some things to you...touched you inappropriately...oh God...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have....I should put myself on report.”

“It is of no consequence. Nothing happened.”

“Yeah but you had to fight me off with a stick. I mean I touched your--”

“I required no weapon.”

“No...it’s uh...figure of speech. Shit. Can I uh. Use your bathroom?”

“Certainly.”

He stops short. “Wait a minute. Wasn’t Bones and Dr. Marcus here too last night?”

“They had fallen asleep on the couch the last I was aware.”

“They’re gone.”

“Yes.”

“So if they left, that means they saw you and I all snuggled up together.”

“Quite possibly.”

“Most definitely. God, Spock. I...I’m sorry. I know you would never want anyone to see you in such a compromising position.”

“Most of the crew saw us dancing together last night. Quite intimately.”

Jim puts his hands to his face. “The Charleston! Oh no.”

“We won the contest.”

“Yeah, that’s because I’m the captain. They have to let me win.”

“You are a good dancer,” Spock says.

“You’re a good piano player and singer. The best, actually. I’m gonna uh...use your bathroom.”

Spock nods.

Jim goes in for a pee, then takes a quick shower, wishing he didn’t have to come back out and face his first officer. ‘I want to be your kitten’? His grabby hands at the party? Jeeze. All the flirting? Sexual innuendo? Holding Spock’s hand? His waist? Dragging the Vulcan under the mistletoe?  Grabbing Spock's unit?! He should be ashamed of himself. Bones is never gonna let him live this down, either.

But he’ll never get the image out of his memory of Spock in that gorgeous soft black velvet tux and white bow tie and those spats, crooning those love songs. But they weren’t directed at him. He was ridiculous in thinking that was the case. He rinses himself off and wishes he could leave via the bathroom and bypass Spock’s living area, entirely. Doesn’t know how to face the first officer again.

He gets out of the shower, pulls one of Spock’s towels around himself and realizes that he doesn’t have anything to change into. Dammit. Now he has to walk into Spock’s living area in a skimpy towel, put the tux back on and do the walk of shame out of here.

He gathers up the the shreds of his dignity, walks out into the living area. Nods at the Vulcan. Gathers up his clothing from last night. Spock’s standing there still in his underwear. Probably waiting for his ass to get out of the shower so he can use it.

Jim turns around and drops the towel and then quickly dresses himself in his pants and shirt, socks and shoes. Puts his coattails over his arm, picks up his bow tie. He turns back around to face the Vulcan. “Thanks for putting up with me, Spock.”

“My pleasure, Jim.” Spock’s still calling him by his first name, that’s a good sign he’s not too pissed at him.

Spock comes closer, to walk him to the door. Jim can’t help himself, he reaches out to touch the Vulcan’s hair. “It’s sticking up.”

Spock smirks. “Some is a result of the styling product. However, I have straight hair which has a tendency to look like this in the morning.”

Jim giggles. “It’s the most....” He wants to say it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen, but he doesn’t. “I’ll go now.”

Suddenly Spock frowns and stares up at the ceiling. “Fascinating.”

“What is it, Spock?”

“Dr. McCoy has quite the sense of humor.” Spock indicates what he is looking at.

Jim glances up. Mistletoe. Oh no. He’s gonna kill that bastard.

“Payback for dealing with my drunken antics last night, I presume,” Jim mutters. He grimaces at the Vulcan. “I know. You decline. And rightfully so.”

Spock steps forward before Jim can make his escape. “I only declined last night due to your being inebriated. However I am willing to at this point in time, if you are.”

“So you want to kiss me now.”

“I did last night.”

“But you refrained, because I was drunk.”

“Yes.”

“What a...gentleman!” Jim says, beaming from ear to ear. Spock pulls him forward by the back on the neck and meets his mouth. Spock's lips are soft and warm and tantalizing. After a few moments they come up for air. “One cannot kiss alone, right Spock?”

“Indeed.”

Spock grabs his hand, pulling Jim’s clothing free from his clutches, so that the coat and tie scatter onto the deck. He tears the shirt off Jim's body, then the trousers and underwear, revealing his nakedness in a way that says the Vulcan means business. He pushes Jim backwards and into bed and begins to lick a stripe down his chest, all the way down to his cock, then taking Jim into his mouth.

“Oh...oh you don’t waste any time, Spock,” Jim gasps out.

Spock halts what he is doing momentarily. “Not when I have wished to do this for a very long time, Jim.”

___________

end.

**Author's Note:**

> Music list:
> 
> 1\. "Let's Misbehave" by Irving Aaronson  
> 2\. "Kansas City Stomp"  
> 3\. "Kitten On The Keys"  
> 4\. "The Entertainer"  
> 5\. "One Cannot Kiss Alone" by Max Raabe  
> 6\. "I Want You For Christmas" by Dick Robertson & His Orchestra  
> 7\. "The Charleston" by Tommy Dorsey  
> 8\. "Louisiana" by Duke Ellington  
> 9\. "Love Is The Sweetest Thing" by Al Bowlly


End file.
